SPOILERS: none - set after BtVS
GENRE: flashfic (short fic
under 1000 words)
DEDICATION: Kalima and Marcee
She finds him in a dumpster in the back alley of a strip-club in one of
the seedier parts of town, not far from the airport. When she lifts the lid,
she’s greeted by the stench of moldy orange peels, cigarette ash and used
condoms. Spike sits huddled in a corner, flinching and jerking, like a tangled
up puppet, mumbling to himself:
“…crawling… under my skin, inside, creepy crawlies… I feel you… here
He swats viciously at his arms, chest and face, trying to squash the
squirming inside of him.
She tries to lure him out like a lost kitten, even using her powers to
draw him to her, but he just blocks his ears and hides his face. In the end she
sets down her burden, leaps into the smelly box, and crouches before him, even
though it means ruining her pretty second-hand brocade frock.
“Look at you, so thin, so lost,” she coos. “My poor little lamb.”
She caresses his head, brushing something sticky out of his unkempt
hair, before trailing a fingertip softly across his gaunt face. “Daddy told me
I’d find you here.” She slices through the skin of his cheek with a razor-sharp
nail that’s painted black and red for the occasion and languidly laps up the
crimson beads that well through the cut.
He whimpers pathetically.
His blood that used to be so sweet and fierce tastes foul now, bitter
like licorice. Drusilla recoils. As he raises his head, she can see the
revolting thing that’s tainting his blood gaze out through his eyes.
“Dru?” he asks uncertainly. “That you?”
“Princess is here.” She opens her arms and a moment later he clings to
her, sobbing, wetting the topaz-colored fabric of her dress with his delicious
“Help me,” he pleads. “Make it stop. Please make it stop.”
She cups his chin to make him look at her. “Don’t worry, my lovely, Mummy
will make it all better. Daddy told me what to do.” She leans closer to whisper
in his ear. “He’s not real, but he knows all kinds of wicked things.”
She kisses Spike’s throat and shoulder, even though his skin is filthy
and mottled with desert sand and grime. She can smell the scab of half-healed
burns on his skin. Then she takes his hand and coaxes him out of the dumpster
to show him her present.
“Look what I got you, isn’t she just the sweetest?”
It’s a black girl, about ten years old, wearing a sun-bleached cotton
dress. She’s propped up against the wall, bound and gagged but awake, tears of
naked fear in her eyes.
“No!” Spike shakes his head. He tries to push Drusilla away but lacks
the strength. “No, please.”
Her eyes narrow. It’s that disgusting thing inside him that’s fighting
her. But there are ways of sending it to sleep. She pulls back. “Hush now, look
at me. Look into Mummy’s eyes,” she tells him sternly, moving one hand in front
of his eyes.
Spike tries to avoid her eyes but fails. Slowly, his expression goes
slack and the pain in his eyes recedes.
She runs a hand through his curls and listens. Poor Spike. Not just
infected with that abominable conscience, but also with that accursed tinker’s
toy buzzing and ticking inside him like a wound-up clockwork. It’s still there,
she can sense it through hair, skin, bone and brain matter. How she’d love to
rip it out. Well, electricity can be tricked.
She listens harder, past the humming, and there it is, twinkling and
dancing in the air like a glowing firefly. She catches it in her palm and holds
it to her ear, then nods in satisfaction. Every dolly needs a tune.
“I have a place for you to go, a dark place,” she tells him, although
he gives no sign of hearing her. “The cards say something’s coming, my love.
Even the stars fear to speak. You’ll see, soon everything will be as it was,
but first, Mummy has a pretty little song for you…” She wraps her arms around
him to hold him tight and plays with his hair as she sings to him. “Early one
morning, just as the sun was rising…”
When his fangs emerge and his eyes turn a savage yellow she claps her
hands with joy and calls him her bad dog. He tears out the little girl’s throat
and drinks her blood, but the chip remains silent.
Just like Daddy said it would.